


The Sunseeker

by EdmondJames_Dantes



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Everyday Life Fic, First Time, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor is not my strong suit, I did try very hard to get the balance right but I don't think I succeeded, I'm Sorry, Insecurity, Kind of Hurt/Comfort kind of not, Kind of realistic kind of crackfic, Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, Reactions to Traumatic Stress, Reassurances, Sex, Talking, have some porn, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdmondJames_Dantes/pseuds/EdmondJames_Dantes
Summary: Tony's got a bit of a one-track mind, but his heart's in the right place.





	The Sunseeker

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked my 'A Good Boyfriend', the one from Tony's POV where Gibbs gets the flu, and my 'One Week In The Life', where Gibbs is a humanoid robot, then chances are that you'll like this because it's kind of a weird mash of the two. Kind of. Kind of not. Have fun!
> 
> This fic starts roundabout in the present, presumes that at some point either Gibbs pulled his head out of his ass, or someone else did it for him, and that Tony and Gibbs have resumed a friendship and work relationship that is similar to the first few seasons. I've not been watching the latest of NCIS so I'm not incorporating any of that into this. Got all that? Right, here we go:

 

 

 

 

The first time Gibbs turns him down for sex, Tony thinks it's completely reasonable, if a bit disappointing.

 

They've had a few beers each, they've only just sort of figured out that they are attracted to each other - or rather, figured out their attractions are mutual - and Tony knows that he has a reputation for being a _wham bam thank you whatever your name is_ kind of guy. It hurts, a little, that Gibbs of all people hasn't figured out that Tony's exaggerations of his sexual escapades are just that - exaggerations. But Tony can't fault him for being cautious.

 

Tony himself is usually quite cautious when it comes to matters of the heart, and he desperately wants this blooming thing with Gibbs to be more than just a fun tumble on Gibbs's tattered old couch. It irks that Gibbs doesn't trust that Tony isn't about to risk their personal friendship and work relationship - the two sides of the relationship that they have worked so hard to rebuild - for a casual fuck, but hey, maybe the whiskey is slowing down the mental cogs, or maybe Gibbs just doesn't have much experience with guys.

 

At the time, Tony doesn't really give the turn down much thought beyond that. Tony's hand fumbles on Gibbs's belt buckle while they are kissing only for Gibbs to pull away, saying, "Not tonight," and so Tony instead quickly offers to take Gibbs out for dinner and dancing the next night. He rather thinks Gibbs will like that old fashioned kind of date, and is proven right with a shy grin and quick nod.

 

But instead of dinner and dancing, they catch a case. A little boy has been kidnapped. A marine's six year old son, and Tony takes one look at Gibbs's furious face, the man clearly catapulted back into memories of his girls, but Gibbs has turned his pain into rage, honed his weakness into a weapon, and Tony thinks, _Goddamn, but I want him to love me like that, so strongly that not even death and time can make him stop._

 

He excuses himself to the bathroom, not waiting for permission, and head-slaps himself silly. He smacks the back of his head repeatedly until he's barely holding back tears, because as fucked up as his father left him, even he knows it isn't alright to measure love in units of pain, and that it sure as fuck isn't alright to be jealous of a dead woman and dead little girl. He allows himself just thirty seconds to _feel,_ and then pulls the shields back into place, smoothes his face out into stone, and straightens out his armour, adjusting his tie to perfection. Then he walks out of the bathroom and does everything that needs to be done to reunite  a family.

 

In the bullpen, three days later, when they finally return Gabriel to his mothers, Tony and Gibbs are both covered in blood. Tony is leaking his own, but he and Gibbs are both saturated with the blood of the abusive ex-husband who stole Gabriel and slashed Tony's thigh with a knife. Tony watches Gibbs watch the two women embrace their son, and his jealousy simply shrivels up and dies at the sight of desperate yearning on Gibbs's face. Gibbs turns away from the family, making to walk away. Tony catches him by the elbow on his way past. Gibbs stills, eyes flashing an angry warning, pointedly looking down at the hand gently gripping his arm, and back up to glare at Tony, in too much pain to take gentleness without breaking.

 

Tony leans in close, not wanting Tim and Ellie, a few metres away, to hear. He whispers, "I'd give you yours back if I could."

 

Gibbs's eyes go wide with shock, his lower lip falling just a little.

 

Tony swallows heavily but, throwing caution to the wind, he adds, "Both of them."

 

Then Tony lets go and does a quick about-face, hurriedly staggering off, all but running away, because he's pretty sure nothing else could say _I love you_ more clearly.

 

 

 

 

When Tony eventually musters the courage to open the door to la Casa de Gibbs, it is still the same night of his atypical declaration of love, but only by about twenty minutes. Gibbs is fast asleep, curled up on couch, on the corner closest to the small fire quietly crackling away in the hearth. Tony takes one look at him and guilt sinks into his belly. Gibbs is wearing jeans and a red hoodie, some worn sneakers. The blankets he normally sleeps in are still folded on the floor. Presumably he had tried to stay up, stay awake until Tony arrived. There is a little paperback book fallen onto the rug.

 

Tony sighs, glad he had shut the door carefully. He walks over to Gibbs, trying to be quiet, but can't help but hiss as he crouches down, pulling a little at his stitches. "Gibbs?" says Tony softly, not wanting to startle him - they both got hurt today, even if Tony's wound is physical, and Gibbs's is emotional. He isn't about to risk shaking awake a sleeping soldier, but he needs Gibbs to wake enough to recognise him before it will be safe to get him properly settled. "Gibbs?"

 

Gibbs stretches a little, yawning and blinking sleepily. "Tony?"

 

"Hey Gibbs," says Tony quietly, finally reaching out and cupping Gibbs's face, his thumb gently rubbing Gibbs's stubbled cheek. It feels like an age since he's last felt Gibbs's warm skin beneath his fingertips. "Let's get you a little more comfortable, yeah? Don't think you want to sleep in your belt and shoes."

 

Gibbs nods his agreement, and he reaches back, his fingers curling in a loose grip around Tony's tie. "We gon' talk now?"

 

Tony hesitates, but Gibbs looks half-asleep. "It's late. We can talk some other time."

 

"Okay. Whatever you want, Tony," says Gibbs, yawning again and childishly rubbing at his eyes with a fist.

 

"Come on, lie down." Tony helps Gibbs shift and lay out over the couch, taking back his tie in the process to Gibbs's sleepy grunts and petulant little growls, and he undoes and pulls off Gibbs's belt and shoes. He grabs the blankets, but as he is smoothing them over Gibbs, a hand catches his wrist.

 

"Stay with me?" asks Gibbs, baby blues blinking but trying to focus on Tony.

 

Tony bites his lip, but before he can decline, Gibbs lightly tugs on his wrist. "Want you t' stay, Tony."

 

"Okay," agrees Tony, a little happy smile stealing over his lips, despite his fear that Gibbs might wake in the morning with a different outlook on the situation. "Just let me stoke the fire."

 

Tony prods the fire with the old iron poker until little flames flare through the mess, adding kindling and three logs and hoping that that will be enough to last the night. He sits on the edge of the coffee table to remove his shoes and belt and jacket, tossing his phone, wallet, badge, and keys, on top. He's too tired to bother removing the little back-up pistol holstered to his ankle, but he didn't bring his main gun; in the unlikely chance he would need one, Gibbs would no doubt provide. His penknife stays in his pocket, of course, no matter how uncomfortable; Rule 9.

 

Then, everything he can think of taken care of, Tony slides under the blankets, cuddling in close and holding on tightly to Gibbs, only in part because he doesn't want to fall off the couch. He presses his nose into the nape of Gibbs's neck, breathing in a scent that smells like home, and at some point while he's warm and safe and content he dozes off.

 

 

 

 

Tony slowly wakes with the sun. The reddish-orange hues on the walls mix into his dreams of the bullpen, his dream of trying and failing to calm down a hysterical, screaming Gabriel, of his own blood seeping out of him to fill the whole squad room like a rising tide, drowning Gibbs and Gabriel, and Jimmy, Tim and Ellie, and even Vance.

 

Eventually bright rays sting his eyes, piercing through the nightmare, bringing in the new day, and reveal that he is still on the couch, now on his back with Gibbs sprawling all over him. Gibbs is a pleasant weight, he's slid down just a little bit, little tufts of hair tickling Tony's chin. But Tony is still not entirely out of his nightmare when Gibbs starts pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to his skin, wet and sloppy kisses, sucking  light bruises into the muscle between the open top buttons of his shirt.

 

But half asleep or half awake, even still dreaming of his blood spilling and killing, heat builds in Tony's belly at Gibbs's actions, jolting into his dick with every sucking kiss, and he moans as a throb goes through his balls. He slides a hand down Gibbs's back, pushing down on the lower spine to make Gibbs's belly press more firmly against his cock as it fills with blood, thickening quickly. He feels terrible, with images of his friends and family dying behind his eyelids as Gibbs makes him feel so damn good, and yet he also feels so terribly alive.

 

Gibbs moans and sucks harder against his collarbone, then out of no-where there's a large hand firmly squeezing Tony's dick through his jeans. Tony throws his head back, arousal rushing through him and slamming him awake, the pleasure drowning out the bad dream, and his breathing speeds up. Gibbs thumbs his cockhead, nail digging roughly into his piss slit even through the denim and Tony cries out, hips pushing up and dick pulsing, pre-cum spurting out.

 

Suddenly there's nothing. He's left abandoned and bereft, the hand is gone from his crotch, the mouth gone from his collarbone, as Gibbs scrambles back to kneel up with his ass above Tony's hard, straining cock, but somehow managing to not touch him at all.

 

"Shit," says Gibbs, blinking down at Tony, and running a hand through his hair. "I thought I was dreaming."

 

"Yeah," Tony smiles, ignoring the unpleasant twist in his gut, and hopes Gibbs can see his willingness, his eagerness to continue. "I know the feeling."

 

But Gibbs shuffles further back, until he's practically straddling Tony's thighs but for the lack of touch, and his gaze falls to stare at the tenting of Tony's jeans. While he's busy staring, Tony sneaks a peek at Gibbs's own crotch, and frowns. Gibbs isn't hard. He blinks, hoping, squinting, but no, still no erection. There's a bulge in the denim where Gibbs's dick and balls are, but his dick is no larger than normal, (and yeah, Tony's snuck enough glances to know what normal looks like on the man). Gibbs _isn't hard._

 

Abruptly Tony feels like shit, a river of ice crashing through his veins. Like he's not good enough, because - _silly, foolish, stupid Anthony_ \- the instant Gibbs had said that he'd thought he was dreaming, Tony had assumed that Gibbs had been having a _good_ dream.

 

He'd thought Gibbs had been having a good dream about _him_.

 

Tony looks up at Gibbs. Gibbs is still staring at Tony's hard cock, a frown on his face, a bit of confusion and, yep, there's the regret that Tony had been dreading last night. "Sorry," says Tony, and he covers his erect dick with his hand, holding it down and away from Gibbs, because it's pretty clear that his arousal is _not_ wanted in this situation.

 

Finally Gibbs meets his eyes again. "I'm gonna go make breakfast," says Gibbs, an unreadable expression on his face. "Do you want bacon and eggs, or oatmeal?"

 

"I've got food at my place," says Tony quietly. He's certain he's never felt so humiliated in his life, and all he wants is to curl up in his own bed, as far, far away from his mistaken beliefs and over-eager hopes, his stupid dreams and horrible nightmares, as is possible. "And I really should go feed my fish."

 

He's also about three seconds away from crying, and he sure as shit doesn't want Gibbs to see that. A large part of him wants Gibbs to argue, for Gibbs to ask him to stay, again, for Gibbs to fight _for_ him, and for an instant Tony thinks he's going to get his wish as Gibbs hesitates, but then he nods. "Okay," says Gibbs, and he pushes off the couch, still not touching Tony, and walks off to the kitchen without looking back.

 

Tony struggles to get his stuff quickly and he has to leave off tying his shoelaces, but he manages to make it all the way to his car before a tear escapes to drip onto his cheek. He's an absolute mess by the time he makes it back to his nice, perfect apartment. It's no substitute for the home he just left. He sprinkles food into Kate and Ziva's tank, the two fish swimming up for a nibble, and with his belly grumbling at him Tony makes his way to his own kitchen. It turns out that his last box of cereal is empty, and his bread has gone mouldy. Exhausted, he gives up, heads for his bed, and uses his pillow to muffle his screams.

 

 

 

 

So, the second time Gibbs turns down sex with him, it hurts like hell at the time. But later in the day, when Tony's not totally fucked up from the tough case, and not stuck on an empty stomach either, he reckons that he simply expected too much too soon, both of Gibbs and of himself, given that they still haven't had a first date, let alone the often joked about third date.

 

Tony feels better, having had a hot shower and pulled on clean clothes, and having made his way out to his favourite diner for a delicious lemon muffin and a filling ham and cheese toastie. He sips at his hot hazelnut coffee, letting it heat up his insides, and sitting at one of the outside tables, he watches all the people walking on by, just living their lives, completely unaware that Anthony DiNozzo Junior had a meltdown in his bed an hour ago. Sitting in the warm sun, so different to his dark and lonely bedroom, Tony feels like a different man now, to the one that had that meltdown. A little fragile around the edges, yes, but determination is flooding all the parts of him that feel jagged and broken, gluing him back together.

 

In hindsight, and feeling alright now, Tony can recognise just how out of balance he had been earlier. He'd been in no condition to be having sex this morning, too raw and hurting from his nightmare, no matter what his little head might have thought. It was probably a good thing that Gibbs had tried to steer them in a different direction, he probably owes Gibbs his gratitude - he's pretty sure it would have been their first _and last_ attempt at sex if Tony had broken down crying in the middle of it.

 

Tony flushes, feeling his cheeks heat up, as he thinks of the way he'd lost control of his emotions. He likes to be a bit of a drama king sometimes, but it's always for one of his masks or just for laughs, rarely because he's actually upset. He sips again at his coffee, shaking the last bit of his embarrassment away, and he tries to consider Gibbs's actions this morning in a rational light. He had over-reacted when Gibbs shut down the sex, had taken it personally, but Gibbs shutting down the sex wasn't the same as Gibbs shutting him out. In fact, the man had offered breakfast, and remembering that makes Tony wants to heads-slap himself, because if he hadn't been such a mess, he could have been spending the morning with Gibbs, having a breakfast-date with the man, and maybe earning a hug.

 

He owes Gibbs an apology for running out on him. His own honour won't settle for anything less, regardless of Gibbs's Rule 5, and no matter how scary he finds slinking back to the man after running away. Which sort of brings back Tony's urge to heads-slap himself for running in the first place, but he supposes he owes himself a bit kindness, should maybe cut himself some slack.  Emotions running high can be expected after such a gruelling case, and surely hasty decisions are a logical follow-on. He was emotionally compromised, and so he acted a bit foolishly, sure, but now that Tony's actually got some food in his belly, his energy levels up a bit, he can see that he hasn't done anything unforgiveable.

 

He'll go grocery shopping, stock up his pantry and fridge with food, and move his clothes from the washing machine into the dryer, and lastly put his sheets into the wash. Then, once he's got his chores done and out of the way, and done first mostly to give him time to think of exactly what to say, he'll go apologise to Gibbs. He's grateful to remember that Ducky once mentioned to him that Rule 5 doesn't apply when you're friends, because that will make it easier, knowing he's not actually breaking another rule. Breaking Rule 12 is enough for one week.

 

So he'll apologise and Gibbs will forgive him, and then, hopefully, they'll talk. Get everything cleared up, out in the open. _I made a mistake, but Gibbs isn't going to hate me for it, he's more experienced with relationships than me, and he knows it, knows I'm bound to mess up a bit._

 

Tony nods to himself. _Gibbs knows the job has emotional consequences, he'll understand. He always understands me, and he always, always forgives my mistakes - many of which have been much worse than simply running away from a shared breakfast._

 

He finishes his coffee and gets up. Tony's pretty sure it's not too late to earn a hug.  _Maybe even another kiss?_

 

 

 

 

Of course, as per typical of his life, Tony's plans don't work out. Standing in the elevator of his apartment building, he's going up to his floor, with the handles of his heavy grocery bags biting into his fingers, and just as the elevator doors _ding_ and slide open, he looks up, just as Gibbs steps forward.

 

"Tony!" Gibbs looks perplexed and relieved all at once.

 

"Gibbs," says Tony reservedly, remembering the last time he'd seen the man, or rather, seen the back of him walking away to the kitchen. Tony would be worrying his fingers together if he wasn't holding his shopping bags. He tries to smile as Gibbs stares at him, "You gonna let me out?"

 

Gibbs steps back and to the side, and Tony shuffles out of the elevator, into the hallway.

 

They stand there, staring awkwardly at each other for a moment, but thunder-clouds quickly gather on Gibbs's face and he snaps, "Where the hell were you? I was worried sick!"

 

Tony flinches. Has he missed something? Did they actually have plans for today? He had been meaning to ask Gibbs on another date to make up for missing their first date, had he asked for one sometime while working the case and then forgotten about it...?

 

"I went to buy food," explains Tony, answering the question but stalling for time as he tries to figure out why Gibbs is so pissed. "Turns out I didn't have much in the pantry." He shrugs, and bites his lip. Tony can't think of anything else he may have done, or not done.

 

But no, having answered the question, Gibbs is relaxing, his shoulders coming down a little, the tension falling off. "Right," says Gibbs, finally looking down at the shopping bags and scowling. "Fuck, I knew I should have insisted that you stay for something to eat." Gibbs shakes his head, and ducks his chin a little. He peers up beneath his lashes at Tony with wide, upset eyes. "I'm sorry, Tony, I-" he breaks off, turning his face away.

 

"It's okay," says Tony, because it really is okay that Gibbs put a halt to things. "I'm not upset that you stopped. I mean, I was at the time, but that's just because I was a bit upset in general. This last case really got to me, you know?"

 

Gibbs jerks his head back to stare at Tony, new worry on his face, and he opens his mouth to speak. Tony cuts him off, "Look, seriously, it's okay, and I'm fine now, but if it's alright with you, maybe we could continue talking in my actual apartment? And not in the open hallway where all my nosy neighbours can listen in?"

 

Gibbs nods quickly, still obviously concerned, but he smiles that little crooked smile of his and it's the best thing Tony's seen all morning. He grins back, even more pleased when, without prompting, Gibbs reaches out and takes a couple of his grocery bags from him, lightening his load.

 

 

 

 

 

They get into Tony's apartment, but whatever alignment that they had for that brief moment in the hallway is lost as they enter the privacy of Tony's sanctuary, and it's compounded by further awkwardness as Tony refuses Gibbs's offer to help him unpack. Tony can't even believe the words are coming out of his mouth as he hastily barks, "I've got it all under control!"

 

Anytime someone - Senior, Ziva, Zoe _, anyone_ \- has helped to put away his groceries, Tony has always ended up spending a solid twenty minutes after they are gone rearranging everything until it all actually makes sense again. But, fortunately, Gibbs doesn't look offended or hurt, simply nods and stands there watching him work.

 

A bag of crunchy red apples and a large bottle of milk go in the fridge, bread goes on the middle pantry shelf, and a half dozen boxes of _Cap'n Crunch_ get shelved all the way at the top  (it's pretty much pure sugar, it ought to last forever if he keeps it for emergencies. _Please, god, don't let Gibbs be judging my breakfast choices_ ), and all the rest go in their own little places. But out of the corner of his eye, Tony notes that Gibbs is awfully fidgety for a trained marine - and god, Tony still hasn't managed to spit out those five little words to Gibbs yet, has he?

 

 _Fuck it, here goes nothing._ "I'm sorry I ran away, Gibbs," the words rush out of his mouth, and Tony braces himself against the edge of island before he looks up and over it to meet Gibbs's eyes.

 

Gibbs nods. "I'm sorry I gave you a reason to leave," he says quietly, and slips his hands into his pockets, looking down at his shoes.

 

Tony frowned. "I told you before, it's okay that you didn't want to have sex. I shouldn't have expected it. I was just pretty messed up from a bad dream."

 

"And here I thought that you didn't want me," says Gibbs, looking up, the hint of a smile curling his lips just slightly.

 

"Why the hell would you think that?" says Tony, because that's just illogical. He runs a hand through his hair. _Surely my hard-on was proof enough that I was enjoying myself?_

 

Gibbs shrugs, ducking his chin again and, speaking to the floor, he says, "It's pretty common knowledge that anyone will get aroused if you stimulate them -" and Tony's just a little worried that Gibbs can read his mind, "- but you were looking at my crotch like you were horrified by it."

 

"Hold up, hold on!" Tony shakes his head. His hands come up and wave, flailing, but it's like a sudden tsunami is erupting through the ceiling of his mind. "I did want you! It was _you_ that didn't want _me!_ " shouts Tony, losing it, ice cold anger crashing through him. He's furious that Gibbs could misunderstand him so thoroughly. Gibbs is one of the only two people who should be able to understand him. Gibbs may not be a mind reader, but he's always been able to read Tony.

 

Tony scowls, and Gibbs takes a half step back, his hands coming out of his pockets to uselessly gesture his innocence.

 

"I was messed up," says Tony between gritted teeth, staring Gibbs down. "I was hurting, from a nightmare, and I latched onto the good feeling of you touching me, of you kissing my chest, and I woke up hard as rock, and you, you just..." Tony trails off.

 

He looks down and closes his eyes. "I just forgot everything, okay? I forgot about everything except the feeling of your lips on my skin and your hand on my dick."

 

Tony shakes his head, looking back up at Gibbs, and he flinches at the hurt look on Gibbs's face, abruptly wishing he could take it all back. But it's too late to hold back, he might as well damn himself entirely and get it all out. "I wanted you, I needed you, desperately, but all of a sudden you wouldn't even touch me," says Tony miserably.

 

Gibbs swallows, and stares, mouth open. He looks sick, face gone pale, and angry too, like someone's just deliberately stomped on a puppy's paw right in front of him.

 

Tony can't keep looking at him. Suddenly the bench-top of his kitchen island is very interesting. Staring down at the galaxy-like swirls in the marble, he's pretty sure that he's never regretted telling the truth more. Any second now Gibbs is going realise just how big of a mess Tony is and walk out the door.

 

Only he doesn't.

 

His kitchen is awfully quiet, and Gibbs's footsteps, though not loud, are perfectly clear, and somehow terrifying, as he walks around the island to stand behind Tony.

 

Tony holds his breath. A head-slap, a mother of all head-slaps, wouldn't be out of order for the shit he'd just said - never mind that Gibbs hasn't head-slapped him in years - because it's hardly fair to dump all of his mess on Gibbs.

 

But Gibbs's strong hands are infinitely gentle as they settle on his shoulders.

 

There's hot breath at his ear, and in a whisper, "I meant it when I said that I thought you didn't want me."

 

Tony tenses. "You thought wrong."

 

"So did you," murmurs Gibbs. Warm fingertips grip Tony's chin and turn his face around, then chapped lips are gently pressing against his own.

 

Something inside Tony's chest eases, a sharp pressure that he hadn't realised was there gives way beneath the reassurance that he _is_ wanted, that Gibbs isn't about to just walk out on him like everyone else does, or, at least, Gibbs isn't about to do it right now.

 

The kiss deepens, Gibbs's hot wet tongue sliding between Tony's lips, and he doesn't know if it's because Gibbs pushed through or Tony sucked him in, he's only certain of one thing: he's never been kissed so well in all his _life._ There are butterflies fluttering in his belly, there's a spark zinging down his spine, there's a throbbing in his dick that matches the pounding of his heart, loud in his ears.

 

Gibbs groans, a deep thing in his chest that Tony can feel against his back, and Gibbs's hand slides from gripping his chin to lightly holding his throat. Gibbs squeezes with just the tiniest fraction of his strength and suddenly Tony is dizzy and light-headed, all his blood rushing south, and abruptly his balls draw up tight, his cock threatening to make a mess in his jeans if Gibbs will do that just one more time.

 

Tony tears his lips away from their kiss, turning his head back away from Gibbs. He is _not_ going to cum in his pants like a teenager. But he can't think over the throbbing of his dick, pressing against the edge of the kitchen island, and he rests himself on his forearms.

 

"Oh fuck," says Tony, increasingly aware of Gibbs's fingers flexing lightly around his throat as he speaks, and he doesn't recognise his own voice, deep and husky. Rough. _Wrecked_.

 

"Yeah," agrees Gibbs, pressed along his spine. "Fuck."

 

Tony can't quite tell if Gibbs's dick is hard from how he's standing, maybe half-hard? He feels somewhat firm against Tony's ass. But after that kiss, erection or not, Tony's got no doubts left as to how much Gibbs wants him.

 

Gibbs doesn't seem to mind or take offense that Tony has stopped the kiss, both of his hands slide to Tony's shoulders once more, then proceed to rub up and down his back. It's comforting, soothing, and Tony leans forward, resting his forehead against the cool marble bench-top, closing his eyes. He feels overheated, and Gibbs's hands are hot and heavy as they stroke his back, only separated from his skin by a thin long-sleeve t-shirt. It's nearing summer, it's not as if he had needed to layer up to go outside earlier.

 

"Jesus Christ, you're beautiful, Tony," rumbles Gibbs, "I couldn't stop staring at your bubble-butt when you were stretching up to put stuff away on the high shelves." His voice has deepened by about half an octave. Tony should know a half octave difference when he hears it, he plays the piano regularly. But the words make him abruptly aware of how he must look to Gibbs, of their positions, of the way he's literally bent over for Gibbs, of the way Gibbs is standing behind him, between his legs, with his half-hard dick nestling between Tony's butt cheeks.

 

His heart seizes in his chest, only to resume pumping in triple-time, and adrenaline jolts through him, making him feel energized, high. Tony doesn't know if he wants to push his pants down, spread his legs, and let Gibbs have at him, or if he wants to fling the man off of him, shove Gibbs away, so he's no longer in such a vulnerable position. _Fuck or fight,_ thinks Tony, inwardly laughing at himself, even as he's frozen with indecision.

 

But Gibbs makes the decision for him, leaning over him, bracing one hand between Tony's shoulder blades, forcing Tony's chest down against the bench, and the other hand bracing beside Tony's head with a thud. "I want to show you just how much I want you," says Gibbs, breathing hotly against his ear, and a shudder of arousal racks through Tony's body, he can't stop it, even if he'd rather play it cool. "But first there's something I need to tell you, and for that we need to put a halt on the fun times - again, I know, I'm sorry - but we need to have a serious conversation before this goes any further."

 

 

 

 

 

So the third time that Tony wants to have sex with Gibbs, there's no actual rejection involved on Gibbs's part, just a kind of _We need to talk first_. It's progress, of a kind, but it probably doesn't bode for good news.

 

Tony groans in exasperation. Just when Gibbs takes away the option of _Fuck_  is the instant that Tony knows what he wants to choose. What the hell could Gibbs possibly want to talk about when he's got Tony bent over, all ready to give it up for him? He wants to tell Gibbs to forget about talking, and just get on with fucking him already, but at the same time he knows that a 'serious conversation' probably means there's something that Tony _seriously needs to know._

 

He knocks his forehead against the bench-top in frustration. _Somehow, I don't think I'm going to be getting laid any time soon._

 

There's a tiny part of him that's certain that if he lets Gibbs put it off now, he won't get another shot at actually having him. He's anxious to have Gibbs to make real this _thing_ between them, to have Gibbs to complete the transition of their relationship into a sexual-romantic one. He wants it badly.

 

But then there's the little fact that it doesn't actually feel like Gibbs is fully hard against his ass. Tony feels uncharitable and mean even thinking it but, _Can Gibbs even get hard enough for penetration?_ The thought strikes him like lightning. _Does he have some kind of erectile dysfunction? Maybe brought on by his PTSD?_

 

The idea makes Tony bite his lip, thinking. He _feels_ ready for it, but truthfully he doesn't mind if they don't jump straight into doing anal. The idea of something as big as an erect penis going into his ass _is_ discomforting - it's just that the discomfort would be worth it so long as it's Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and he trusts that Gibbs would make it good for him. But he does care that Gibbs might be pushing himself into something that the man's not ready for yet. Is the whole 'not getting hard' thing what Gibbs wants to talk about? Is penetration off the menu? He doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

 

"Tony," rumbles Gibbs, and a skittish shiver runs through Tony. He hasn't forgotten Gibbs is right there, waiting behind him, but he's been lulled into safety by the hands rubbing up and down his back, completely lost in his thoughts.

 

Tony sighs. "I know, I know, you want to talk. Which probably means you're gonna tell me something I don't want to hear, right?" He pushes himself up to standing and scrubs both hands over his face. Thinking about it, Tony knows full well that relationships don't survive without trust and communication, no matter how much you might love each other. Relationships without leaps of faith - in the form of opening up and talking to your partner - tend to fall apart beneath the weight of silence. Ruefully, Tony thinks, _Gibbs is right, we should probably talk before things go any further._

 

"I'm sorry, Tony," says Gibbs, and Tony frowns. Gibbs sounds like he's walking to his own execution.

 

Tony spins around to face him, and Gibbs gives him a shaky smile, but it doesn't enter his eyes, and he looks pale again, like he's seen a ghost, or is about to become one himself.

 

"Shit, Gibbs. You're not about to tell me that you're dying or something, are you?" blurts out Tony, suddenly panicked that Gibbs might actually be seriously sick.

 

He gets a short laugh, and Gibbs grins wryly. "No, I'm not dying or anything. There's just something that I need to tell you, something that we need to talk about."

 

A relieved breath whooshes out of Tony. "Thank god."

 

"I do thank him, fairly often, actually. I thank him for bringing you into my life," says Gibbs mildly, leaning forward to kiss Tony gently, and Tony just _melts_. Who the fuck knew Gibbs could be romantic? Well, he guesses he's just figured out why four women said yes to a ring from Gibbs _._

 

Tony relaxes and rests his hands on Gibbs's waist, kissing Gibbs back, trying to show just how much he cares. It feels surreal, that after all this time, in his _apartment kitchen_ , that he's finally getting the affection and care that he's always wanted from Gibbs. Tony might not be ready to acknowledge the implication of the way Gibbs's hands touch his face carefully, the soft way Gibbs's thumb is caressing his cheek, but he does understand what it means.

 

Gibbs pulls back and smiles softly. "I want for us to be partners. You make me so damned happy, Tony, just by being in my life. I want a chance to make you happy, too. And if you'll give me that chance, even after what I have to tell you, then I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy."

 

Tony stares at him, and swallows hard. "Then you'd better tell me what the problem is, so that we can deal with it and be together." He hopes like hell that what Gibbs has to say is actually something relatively simple, if embarrassing or awkward. He doesn't want to hear Gibbs say something utterly horrible, like _You're gonna need to leave our team for us to be together because of Rule 12._ Or, _I'm secretly a serial killer._ Tony can deal with a bit of erectile dysfunction, honest.

 

Gibbs stares back at him, biting his lip, inexplicably shy, right before Tony's eyes. And yeah, if it came to it, Tony could and would deal with the worst case scenarios, but that doesn't mean it would be pleasant. He'd probably have to argue with Gibbs, or send him back to therapy, or something else equally difficult and painful. But it's this silence now, that truly worries Tony.

 

"Gibbs, you know, you can tell me anything," says Tony awkwardly. He's never been Gibbs's first choice of confidant before now, he has no practice at giving Gibbs, of all people, reassurance. He takes one of Gibbs's hands in his, but he can't take the words right out of Gibbs's mind. "Just tell me. Whatever it is, I promise, I'm with you, and we'll deal with it together." He leans in and presses his forehead to Gibbs's, locking Gibbs's blue eyes on his.

 

Gibbs rubs their noses together, hesitating, stalling.

 

"Just tell me," persists Tony. "I'm with you ten thousand percent. You have a secret love-child, or you're an alien from out of space, or a serial killer, you got your balls shot off, I don't care, I'm-"

 

"Really damned imaginative," cuts in Gibbs, laughing lightly. Gibbs pulls back just a little, but doesn't dislodge Tony's hands from his waist, staying in the moment.

 

Tony waits patiently, he can tell Gibbs is working up to it from the way his brows are furrowed, and then Gibbs's jaw sets in a familiar determined angle.

 

"I'm transgender, Tony," says Gibbs, his chin tilting up just a little, obstinately.

 

Tony blinks.

 

Shit.

 

His heart stops.

 

Gibbs stares at him uncertainly.

 

Tony stares back, feeling like he's been punched in the guts.

 

Tony's _gay._

 

He lets out a long, unsteady breath, and tries not to cry. _Gibbs wanting to be a woman isn't a deal-breaker_ , Tony tells himself. _It just means we won't be having as much sex as I had hoped. But I'm too in love with him - with her? - to walk away. I can handle this. He - she - needs me to be able to handle this. I have to be able to handle this._

 

"You want to be a woman?" asks Tony cautiously, needing to be certain, and privately hoping that he's - misheard, or misunderstood, or _something._

 

Gibbs blinks back at him. "What? _No!_ I'm a man!"

 

"What the fuck do you mean you're transgender then?" snaps Tony, relief and anger coursing through him in equal measure. He has _not_ signed up to have his emotions yanked back and forth like a damned rope in a tug o' war game.

 

Gibbs brings his hands up and scrubs them over his face. "Just that, Tony. Female, strong set of lungs, perfectly healthy. That's what the doctor said when I was born. Congratulations, Jack and Anne, it's a _girl_. Leanne Gibbs."

 

 _Leroy Gibbs_ hunches his shoulders, turns his head away, and avoids Tony's eyes. It's probably just as well, he's staring at Gibbs like he's been smacked in the face. His jaw should be hitting the ground any moment now.

 

"Oh- okay," stutters out Tony. _I have no clue how to handle this,_ he thinks, a sinking feeling in his gut.

 

Gibbs still won't look at him. "It's really not okay, Tony," he mutters.

 

Tony closes his eyes. He's been so scared of screwing this up, and now he actually _is_ screwing up.

 

"I just thought you should know before we got naked and you got one hell of a surprise," whispers Gibbs. "I'm sorry, Tony."

 

 _So, he doesn't have a penis then,_ surmises the clinically detached cop part of Tony. _Must have stuffed his briefs with something._

 

Tony shakes off those thoughts, pushing the cop to the side, and opens his eyes. Gibbs is biting his lip, staring at him with wide eyes, scared.

 

"Well. That is one hell of a surprise." Tony smiles, and it's a little shaky, but it's a smile. "But it's not the end of the world, Gibbs. I thought you were gonna ask me to leave the team or something."

 

 _It's not like I've never had sex with a woman before. At least with Gibbs he probably won't care if I'm pretending he's a man._ Tony frowns, because even in his own head, that didn't really make sense.

 

Gibbs stills, looking suspiciously at him. "You don't mind?"

 

Tony shrugs and smiles lopsidedly. He meant it when he said ten thousand percent, he still means it - it's not as if he loves Gibbs any less now for knowing that he's got a vagina. "Kind of crazy about you, Gibbs." He sighs. "That said, I'm not so happy you kept this from me for so long. I mean, couldn't you have told me before we started getting hot and heavy?" _A little time to acclimatize might have been nice._

 

"Right," says Gibbs, something shutting down in his eyes. He pulls away from Tony's hands. "Right. I guess I'll go then."

 

"What, no, you don't have to go, Gibbs." Tony reaches out and tugs at the cuff of Gibbs's flannel shirt, too tentative in the face of Gibbs's obvious emotional withdrawal to reach for Gibbs's hand.

 

"No. No, I get it, Tony." Gibbs smiles humourlessly and pulls his arm away. "I don't like my genitals either."

 

Tony's mouth opens and closes. That is _not_ a can of worms he knows how to deal with, not at all. "Look, you know, we don't have to do this. Have sex, I mean. We could just go watch a movie or work on your boat or something. I'm happy so long as you are."

 

Gibbs looks at him like he's insane.

 

"What?" says Tony, puzzled.

 

Gibbs speaks slowly, "You still want me- want to have sex with me?"

 

Tony blinks, then glances down at where Little Anthony has fallen asleep on the job. He looks back up at Gibbs and gives a little sheepish grin. "Well, maybe not right this instant, my dick's kind of fallen asleep with all the talking, but later, yeah. Maybe before we go to sleep tonight?" Then at Gibbs's squint - which looks like something halfway between confusion and an angry glare, Tony quickly adds, "Only if you want to, of course."

 

 _Maybe if he doesn't like having a vagina then he doesn't like to have sex with it?_ Tony really doesn't know how any of this transgender stuff works.

 

Finally Gibbs moves closer to him again, and Tony settles his hands on Gibbs's waist once more with a relieved smile.

 

"Want to watch a movie?" suggests Tony, his thumbs rubbing over t-shirt to stroke Gibbs's waist in a way he hopes is reassuring. He could be wrong, but he's pretty sure the best thing to do is to _not_ make a big deal out of this. Gibbs never likes a fuss when he's hurt, and maybe this is similar enough for 'business as usual' to work.

 

Gibbs is quiet, still eyeing him like he's something strange, but Tony's too happy to have Gibbs in his hands - and not leaving him - to care.

 

"I've got the latest X-Men one, you liked the comics, right?" Tony vaguely remembers Jackson Gibbs mentioning that  Leroy used to read Marvel comics as a boy - and _wow_ , does Gibbs being transgender put a whole new spin on the relationship that had existed between the two Gibbs men.

 

But Gibbs crowds in even closer, like Tony's personal space is _his_ personal space, sliding his hands onto Tony's biceps, and leaning in until all Tony can see is him. "What if I want to _have sex?_ " drawls Gibbs, low and husky.

 

Tony grins broadly before he can control it. "Or we could have sex," he agrees.

 

"Yeah?" says Gibbs, a challenging glint in his eyes that confuses Tony.

 

But Tony nods. "Yeah, I'd like that," he affirms, still grinning happily.

 

"Your dick's not hard," says Gibbs mildly, even as his eyes, always so _goddamned intense,_ stay fixed on Tony's. "You sure that's what you want?"

 

Tony swallows, because Gibbs said _dick_. "I'm pretty sure it'll harden right back up with a little help from you," says Tony, well aware that his own voice is getting all rough from just the idea of Gibbs's hand _helpfully_ wrapping around his cock.

 

A slow grin spreads across Gibbs's face. "I bet I can make you feel real good, Tony. Get you nice and hard, and make you cum hard as hell."

 

"Yeah, yes, okay, I want that," says Tony, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

 

"You trust me?" asks Gibbs, cocking his head to the side.

 

Tony pauses. He doesn't have the blind faith that he used to have in Gibbs, lost that hero worship years ago, if he's honest with himself. He's learned the difference between blind faith and trust. But can he trust Gibbs _now?_ Can he, now that he knows Gibbs has kept something so huge from him? Being born a girl? A different first name? A whole past that Tony knows _nothing_ about.

 

Trust has to be earned, and Gibbs has earned it to a point, has saved his life countless times, has done his best to repair their fractured friendship and build it into a strong bond once more. But has he done enough for Tony to honestly say, unconditionally, that he trusts Gibbs? Does trust in one situation carry over to another? At some point, trust has to be given, but that requires a leap of faith - the instinctive knowledge that you will be caught, or you will fall. If Tony were to fall now, would Gibbs follow through? And in this situation, does Tony need to be caught? Or does he need Gibbs to fall with him?

 

" _Tony_. Good, there you are. You don't have to do anything you don't want to," says Gibbs, and his hands rub up and down Tony's arms, and squeeze gently. "I know we were planning on having a date or two first, so if we're moving too fast for you-"

 

"No!" blurts out Tony, worried that if Gibbs walks out now that he won't come back, "I want you!"

 

"I know, but I can wait as long as you need," says Gibbs, and his gaze is warm as he squeezes Tony's arms again.

 

"Is this a one-time thing?" asks Tony, one of his worst fears leaping to the forefront of his mind and snarling at him that he's _only good for a fuck, you don't deserve anything more_. It's nonsensical, he knows, because Gibbs doesn't do casual - well, as far as Tony knows. But maybe it's different because they're team-mates, because there's Rule 12 to think of.

 

But Gibbs shakes his head, and he over-rides Tony's fear, pressing up against Tony's chest and hugging him. "I want us to be partners, remember? What part of partners makes you think one-time thing? This ain't a one-off unless you want it to be. I want you for good."

 

Tony can't breathe through the emotions that are choking him. No one has _ever_ wanted him for good.

 

He can feel Gibbs smiling into his throat.

 

"If that's what you want?" whispers Gibbs, and waits patiently for an answer.

 

"I want the same of you," says Tony softly, and the fear-monster grumbles but crawls back into the recesses of his mind. He relaxes, only just now realizing how tense he had become.

 

Gibbs draws back just enough to give him a searching look.

 

"I trust you," answers Tony, finally, because maybe he's not the only one here scared of things going wrong. How much trust has _Gibbs_ given him today? Maybe Gibbs has already made a leap of faith - by letting Tony in, by telling Tony his secrets. Is it possible that Tony's got it all backwards, that maybe it's his turn to follow through?

 

"Alright," says Gibbs. He lifts his head to meet Tony's gaze, a small happy smile on his lips, eyes bright, and his hands slide down to Tony's hips. "I believe you."

 

Tony grins at him, nervous and happy. It feels simultaneously like everything and nothing has changed.

 

Gibbs kisses him again, warm and sweet, then hot with sparks flying, and Tony kisses back, trying to be just as sweet, just passionate. Gibbs's tongue slips into his mouth, and twists and slides against his own, and Tony sucks on it, wondering if it'll be anything like sucking on Gibbs's clit.

 

Gibbs retrieves his tongue and catches Tony's lower lip with teeth, and gently tugs at it. Tony groans deeply, and yeah, his own cock is taking interest in the proceedings, but a second later, Gibbs's lips are kissing up his jaw, sucking at his earlobe and then spit-wet lips lightly touch Tony's ear.

 

"Trust me, Tony. Turn around and bend over for me," says Gibbs softly, his hot breath sending a shiver down Tony's spine.

 

Tony breathes out heavily, then does as he's been told. He braces his forearms on his kitchen island, the cold marble once again a shock to his system, and without being told, he widens his stance just a little. Gibbs takes advantage of it, his hands, hot and heavy, stroke over Tony's shoulders and slide down his back, and they don't stop when they run into Tony's belt. Gibbs's hands slide over it, fingers spreading out across Tony's denim-covered ass, and Gibbs grips tight.

 

A long breath whooshes out of Tony's lips. He honestly doesn't know if it's arousal, anticipation, fear, or something else entirely that's rushing through him right now, making him pant out his breaths, growing more and more light-headed with each overwhelming _thud thud thud_ of his heart.

 

Fingers squeeze Tony's ass, hard enough that Tony doesn't doubt that he's gonna have fingerprint bruises, shouting out to the world - or at least to him - that _Gibbs was here._ He really, _really_ hopes that he doesn't die in the couple of days or so. He can't imagine Ducky's reaction as he does the autopsy, but he knows it would be long-winded, embarrassing, and Abby's probably more than capable of working her forensic magic to find out who left their fingerprints on-

 

Gibbs lets go of Tony's right ass cheek, and a second later there's a pressure _\- a finger? No, a thumb -_ that starts at the top-middle of his ass and runs down over the seam between his butt cheeks, right over his asshole, and digs into his balls.

 

Tony inhales sharply through his nose. _Jesus Christ, Gibbs._ "Did you just rub your thumb down the crack of my ass?"

 

"Oh yeah," says Gibbs, and Tony can just hear him smirking. "You like that?"

 

Tony snorts, amused at Gibbs's smugness despite himself. Gibbs always manages to look sexy when he's smug, it's probably half the reason that people let him away with so much bullshit. But Tony's not looking at him and Tony doesn't have to dignify him with a response.

 

So, of course, Gibbs repeats the manoeuvre. "Answer me, Anthony."

 

Tony moans. "Oh god yes." He would be thoroughly ashamed of himself for not holding out for longer before moaning desperately, but he can't seem to care as Gibbs's thumbnail scratches through the denim over that little soft stretch of skin between his balls and his asshole.

 

A moment later and Gibbs's thumb is rubbing little circles over his asshole, and it's not even that the act is pleasurable (though it is _really_ pleasurable) so much as it is the sheer intimacy of Gibbs touching him in a _way_ \- if not a place - that no-one else has, that makes Tony positively, wordlessly, noisily, _whimper._

 

At the sound - that Tony can scarcely believe came from his own throat - Gibbs's hands abruptly jerk Tony's hips back from the edge of the bench, his hands fumble with Tony's buckle and crotch, and Tony's dick and balls get cupped and squeezed - which sets his dick off throbbing - his belt gets thrown clear across the kitchen to somewhere over his dinner table, and his jeans are yanked all the way down, an inadvertent pair of handcuffs around his ankles, caught above his shoes.

 

Tony straightens up, hands bracing on the edge on the kitchen island, and he blinks down at his naked legs, both a little hairy. There's a big, stark white bandage wrapped around his left thigh, covering his stitched up knife wound, and his dick - no underwear, of course - is hard and red and bobbing from when his jeans caught it. He's a little bemused. Everything seems to be happening very, _very_ quickly _._

 

"Nah-uh, DiNozzo, back down you go," says Gibbs, and his voice might be more amused than commanding, but his hand splayed out between Tony's shoulder blades is firm and controlling and pleasure zings down Tony's spine. Gibbs pushes him down again, only this time Tony's hard dick is free and poking up against his belly, his balls tight and drawn up, and it all gets caught between his shirt and the surface of the cool marble bench-top.

 

Tony moans at the feeling of flat, cold stone against his hot, swollen cock, and the hard edge presses into his tight balls uncomfortably.

 

His dick _throbs_. This fuck is going to _kill him._

 

Gibbs chuckles briefly and falls silent as his hands once more settle on Tony's ass. Tony focuses on breathing in and out. In and out.

Heat coils like a slow-awakening snake in his belly. In and out, and Gibbs still hasn't moved his hands. _What is he waiting for?_ The man's already got Tony's permission, why the hold up? Tony bites his lip anxiously, hidden from Gibbs's sight, his forehead's once more on the bench.

 

In and out. _Has he changed his mind?_ _Fuck, when was the last time I waxed my ass?_ The excess hair is something that Ziva hadn't liked. But no, Gibbs isn't shallow, he isn't going to care about _hair._ But it's no secret that Gibbs likes women with red hair, and he's only human, maybe he is just as susceptible to attraction biases as everyone else.

 

 _Maybe he doesn't like the look of your ass as much now that he's up close and personal with it_ , sneers a small voice from the depths of his mind _._ Tony swallows hard. It's no secret that he hasn't been to a gym in a couple of years, that he's put on a little bit of weight with his metabolism slowing down a little. And Gibbs is a marine, isn't he? Former or no, carrying around a few extra pounds probably doesn't seem all that practical, all that _attractive,_ to someone who values a fighting-level of fitness.

 

In and out. In - and Gibbs still hasn't moved. Panic sets in and Tony thinks, a little hysterically, _Does this angle make my ass look fat?_

 

Tony opens his mouth to say - something _, anything,_ he doesn't know what - but before he can get a word out, Gibbs's hands are  spreading his ass cheeks wide apart and Gibbs's _tongue_ , hot and silky and wet, is _licking_ a broad stripe over _his asshole_.

 

Tony's eyes go wide, and he gags on his own spit, choking in shock, only to outright _whine_ as Gibbs licks over his hole again, and Tony fucking _crumples in pleasure_ \- banging his forehead down on the bench-top, his knees turning to jelly, and he's abruptly relieved he has an entire kitchen island to hold him up. Suddenly, waiting a couple of minutes for Gibbs to make up his mind doesn't seem so bad, because Tony would wait _for-fucking-ever_ if it meant he got to feel this again.

 

Gibbs licks his asshole likes it's _ice-cream_ \- like it's the best ice-cream he's ever had. His tongue sends waves of pleasure throughout Tony's entire body, a tingle builds in the base of his spine, his gut jerks and twists, and his toes curl. Tony would be pushing back into Gibbs's mouth but Gibbs's hands are implacable and hold him in place against the kitchen island, as if Gibbs knows that Tony's ass would be suffocating the hell out of him if given the chance. His fingertips are bruising as they dig into Tony's butt cheeks, keeping his ass spread wide open, painfully so, but Tony doesn't care about the soreness either. Tony just stays there, bent over his own damn kitchen island, and happily takes everything that Gibbs decides to dish out.

 

It's nothing at all like the pleasure Tony usually gets. He can't get any friction at all on his dick, he can't thrust forward like he's used to doing during sex, in fact, Tony can't move at all. His swollen dick is stuck, pressed between his belly - well, his thin shirt - and the bench-top, and even without a single touch to his cock or balls, there's a pressure in them that slowly builds with every lick of Gibbs's tongue, and it just keeps building and building without ever reaching any kind of threshold. His cock is throbbing with need and drooling pre-cum steadily, but Tony can't get any _relief_.

 

(Somehow, it never occurs to him that he's got two hands, either of which he could use to  touch himself. Later, _much later_ , he'll realise that it's not that Gibbs told him _not_ to, but that Gibbs _didn't tell him to._ )

 

Tony is pretty sure that Gibbs has decided to torture him.

 

But there's not much finesse to Gibbs's actions, just sheer enthusiasm and Gibbs's wet tongue sloppily licking over his anus, teasing him by letting the very tip of his tongue get caught in the rim. Tony whines and whimpers. He's pretty sure that he started whining and whimpering a while back and just hasn't stopped.

 

 _No,_ Tony decides, _Gibbs has decided to fucking murder me_ , because that tongue curls and starts gently poking through his first ring of muscle, in and out, actually fucking Tony's ass with his tongue, and 'Death by Anilingus' is gonna be plastered all over Tony's death certificate. But if this is how he goes, then so fucking be it. He is perfectly happy to cross off his anal virginity just like this. It feels far, far better than the few occasions when Tony's stuffed his own fingers into his ass.

 

Gibbs spends any amount of time from between 5 seconds to 5 hours eating out Tony's asshole. Tony doesn't know how long, he doesn't care. At some point, Gibbs adds in a spit-slicked finger, sliding it in and out beside his tongue, and not long after that he adds a second finger, removing his tongue from the equation, and settling in to finger-fuck Tony's hole.

 

It's a bit of a stretch, though as relaxed and aroused as he is, it's not painful. But still, at what point does Tony tell Gibbs that he's effectively a virgin? He's always topped the men that he's had one night stands with, and never met a man other than Gibbs for whom he'd willingly put himself into a position that so many think is submissive. He's had one ex-girlfriend's single finger up his ass, and his own two fingers in his ass, but never three, and never ever a cock.

 

But fuck, what if Gibbs has one? What if it's not just stuffing in his pants, what if he's had surgery to turn his clit into some kind of penis, even if it's not quite the same as a normal one? Tony doesn't know how far medical technology has gotten, he didn't think, didn't ask, but what if Gibbs wants to-

 

Gibbs digs both fingertips into his prostate for the first time, and it's so, _so good_. "Oh fuck _, Gibbs!_ "

 

"Christ, Tony, I get that you're liking this, but could you try to _not_ shatter my eardrums?" says Gibbs.

 

"Fuck you, Gibbs," moans Tony, and Gibbs barks laughter, but Tony can't think to answer with something smart, he can't think of anything. Gibbs's fingers pressing on his sweet spot feel like they're hotwired straight to his dick. His cock is _throbbing_ and spitting out pre-cum in time to Gibbs's hard prodding.

 

"You know," says Gibbs conversationally, "You can call me Jethro, if you want. Or even Leroy." His voice softens, "You can call me anything you want, Tony."

 

"Uh, uh, uh-huh," gasps out Tony, breathing hard, shuddering. It's meant to be agreement. Touching his prostate with his own fingers has _never_ felt this good. And this is just two of Gibbs's fingers. _How good would a cock feel?_

 

Warm chuckling drifts over Tony like a musical breeze, but Gibbs doesn't let up, even though his fingers stop moving in Tony's hole, almost but not quite on his prostate. A hand fumbles with Tony's taut balls and swollen cock, pulling them backwards, out from under him, to hang down against the side of the kitchen island. He's a bit more comfortable, now that his junk isn't getting squished by his belly, but the side of the marble island feels freezing against his hot shaft and the kitchen air is chilled against his balls.

 

But Gibbs's tongue dips into Tony's little piss slit, the tip of his tongue sneakily worming in, making Tony suck in air and forget all about the cold. And a second later, Gibbs licks a straight, broad line from his cockhead up the underside of his shaft, wiggling his tongue between Tony's tight furry balls, and laves over the soft skin all the way to the rim of his asshole. Tony will never admit it in a thousand years, but tears start leaking from his eyes at the sheer ecstasy that's evoked by that single all-encompassing lick. From his head to his toes, from his dick to his asshole, Tony is full up on the pleasure thrumming through his veins.

 

Then Gibbs starts tapping hard on his prostate with the two fingers stuffed in his ass. Tony grins broadly, his nose squished into the marble bench, and he groans in pleasure. "Fuck yeah, right there, Gibbs, give it to me."

 

"Alright, baby, hold on," murmurs Gibbs, and he scissors his fingers, spits directly into Tony's hole between them, and shoves a third finger inside.

 

  _"Ah, fuck!"_ cries Tony. His hips try and fail to jerk forward,  away from Gibbs's fingers, but merely press a little harder into the edge of the bench. It's too much, a sudden burning stretch throughout his asshole.

 

But Gibbs is merciless. He shoves his three fingers in roughly, digging into Tony's sweet spot in an odd integration of pain-pleasure, and he yanks them out carelessly.

 

Tony grunts and whimpers and, as Gibbs forces his fingers into Tony's now resistant asshole again and again, making his anus feel strained and sore, he debates whether or not to tell Gibbs to stop. But then something yields, some muscle inside his ass gives way, and the soreness subsides into pleasure. Abruptly Tony's pushing up on his elbows in order to forcefully rock his ass back onto Gibbs's fingertips stabbing his prostate. "Uh, oh god, Gibbs, fuck, more, give me more!"

 

Gibbs wraps his spare hand into a fist around Tony's cock and starts jerking him off.

 

Tony's eyes roll back and he smacks his forehead back down against the bench-top. _"Guh,"_ he moans, his cock hurting so damn good from how tightly Gibbs's fist is gripping and pulling.

 

Of course, just then, when Tony thinks that he can't possibly take any more without imploding, Gibbs ducks down and wraps his lips around Tony's cockhead at the same time as he jabs his fingertips _hard_ into Tony's sweet spot _._

 

"BOSS!" roars Tony, his orgasm slamming through him like a tidal wave, jack-knifing his body. He's lost at sea. His cock _pulsates_ , his asshole clenches tight, the muscles rippling as he desperately fucks himself back onto Gibbs's fingers.

 

Gibbs grunts, sounding surprised, but he rolls with it, keeps his lips sealed determinedly around Tony's cockhead, and his hand pulls firmly on Tony's pulsing cock, urging the cum to spill out into his waiting mouth. Gibbs sucks hard as semen spurts out onto his tongue, and he swallows it all down, his mouth working around the tip.

 

Tony's forehead _thunks_ down onto the bench-top one last time to stay, and he's pretty sure he's hit cloud nine.

 

 

 

 

In the aftermath of the first time they have sex, Tony is fucking _dazed_ with pleasure, little aftershocks twitching through his body. If he were a couple decades younger, then his dick would already be perking up for a second round. He pulls up his jeans with trembling hands, zipping them up and buttoning them carefully, before he turns around and pushes himself up to perch his sore butt on the marble kitchen island - mostly because he's worried his legs won't hold him up with how wobbly they are, and just a little so that Gibbs can't play with his asshole any further. Three fingers had been one too many, just a little too much too soon given Tony's lack of experience, but since he's just had the most intense, most explosive orgasm _of his life_ , he's gonna let it pass just the once.

 

When Tony raises his gaze to meet Gibbs's eyes, Gibbs is smiling happily at him, a little helplessly, a little bit awestruck, and his lips are wet and shiny with his saliva and Tony's cum. Gibbs settles his hands on Tony's knees and says, "I was expecting Gibbs, or Jethro maybe, but Boss? Kinky, Tony."

 

Tony laughs at himself, his face burning hotly, because there's not really anything he can say to that, is there? But his cheeks are stretched and hurting with a wide grin of his own that he can't seem to stop. He's happy. For the first time in a long time, he is ridiculously, fearfully, stupidly happy.

 

Gibbs joins in, laughing with him, and shaking his head in mock-exasperation. _Later_ , Tony promises himself, _I'll make a point of teasing him for something equally embarrassing_. Because he knows now that he's actually going to have the chance.

 

Especially because Gibbs makes a point to say, sincerely, "I really, truly, hope you liked that because I want to do it again. Like, tomorrow. And the next day. Or, ya know, as often as possible for the rest of our lives."

 

It's probably too soon in their relationship for Gibbs to be saying something like that; it's probably something he says to all the pretty girls - well, and all the pretty boys. Gibbs is pretty damn handsome, Tony can't imagine him lacking for offers. It's not that he minds others going before him, but with how stupidly in love with him as Tony is, he doesn't want Gibbs to fuck him just for fun and then turn around to settle down with someone else.

 

Tony grins hopelessly at Gibbs, and judging by Gibbs's indulgent smile he looks dorky and stupid because he's all fucked-out, but he can't stop grinning. He's actually just a little bit speechless, and he nods vigorously in order to agree to a repeat of getting his ass tongue-fucked and finger-fucked, and Gibbs's own grin grows. Perhaps it's ironic, or naive, but that Gibbs wants more of him even though Gibbs himself hasn't had an orgasm, only makes Tony believe him more. He reaches for Gibbs's crotch, because turn-around is fair play, but Gibbs stops him with a gentle touch, a grin and a wink. "No, I'm good. This one was just for you, Anthony."

 

They get to work cleaning up, with Gibbs washing his hands at the sink and Tony hopping off the kitchen island to search for his belt and ducking briefly into his bedroom for a new clean shirt (there was wet patch of pre-cum on his old one), but when he walks back into the kitchen, Gibbs is just standing there staring into space with a silly grin on _his_ face, that only gets bigger when he sees Tony. "I was just thinking of you," says Gibbs at Tony's raised eyebrow, rubbing his neck.

 

Tony  strides around the kitchen island and lunges for Gibbs, tackling him to the floor in a ridiculous re-enactment of how they first met, intending to change the ending and kiss Gibbs senseless, because, god, Gibbs is killing him with the romantic one-liners, cliché though they may be. Only this time Gibbs groans and complains about the hard floor, and when Tony teases him for being old, Gibbs pushes him off and shoves him onto his hands and knees, and smacks his ass, his broad palm landing right on the spot of the jeans over Tony's asshole, and it jolts pleasure right through him.

 

Tony's mouth falls open in sheer disbelief, and his shock allows for Gibbs to smack him _again_ , and he can feel his asshole _flex_ and _clench_ in desire for Gibbs to open it up again. But, gathering all of his self-control, Tony reigns in the moan that wants to escape and ignores how good the smacks feel in order to scramble around and start wrestling with Gibbs.

 

They roll around play-fighting, covering their exploration of each other as rough-housing, and they wrestle for dominance for a bit, but after a while Gibbs lets Tony win, lets Tony pin him down on his belly, and Tony sprawls all over his back and gives into temptation, grinding his dick down between Gibbs's ass cheeks, his cock slowly filling out again.

 

Gibbs pushes up onto his elbows and knees, and Tony pushes off of him to see what he's going to do - concerned that maybe he's crossed some unspoken line - only to watch as Gibbs spreads his knees, arching his back until his chest is almost on the floor. Tony loses his breath to see the graceful curve of Gibbs's spine, his forehead resting on his hands. It makes Tony want to worship, to push Gibbs's shirt up and press gentle kisses onto Gibbs's shoulders, and demonstrate his love, instead of his lust, for Gibbs.

 

But Gibbs presses his ass backwards as Tony kneels between his legs, pushing firm muscles to his aching cock, and Tony is lost. Gibbs's butt cheeks are at the perfect level for him to rub his thickening cock in long slides between them, so he does. It's good, even through two pairs of jeans, and Tony grins as he play-fucks Gibbs, rolling his hips in a way that makes Gibbs moan.

 

For a moment as he rubs his dick against Gibbs's ass, Tony considers asking for Gibbs's permission to just pull down his pants and go for it for real. But he doesn't know how to navigate that conversation, let alone that situation. How is he meant to fuck Gibbs? Should he put his cock in Gibbs's cunt? Most women - _females? - people with vaginas?_ \- prefer vaginal sex to anal, at least in Tony's experience. Tony has had sexual relationships with a few women - Wendy and Jeanne spring to mind - if only to keep his career safe, and he did give Ziva that one night of comfort. He knows he can deal with it if that's the kind of sex Gibbs wants, because at the end of the day, a warm hole is a warm hole.

 

Gibbs grunts and shifts beneath him. "Yeah, Tony," he says. One of Gibbs's hands disappears under him to about the front of his jeans - and Tony is just a little frustrated that he can't see _how_ Gibbs is masturbating, because it would be a lot easier in future to make Gibbs feel good if he got a demonstration first. But Gibbs whines, his butt pushing harder against Tony's cock, so Tony rubs a hand soothingly up and down Gibbs's spine and holds himself still so Gibbs can get what he needs, ass rocking against his cock in a needy rhythm.

 

At least now Tony's figured out that this time he won't have to pretend he is fucking a man, he actually will be fucking a man - even if this one's got a cunt in place of a cock. But Tony will be able to feel the calluses on Gibbs's hands, the hair on his body, run his hands over Gibbs's muscles and look at Gibbs's face, his bright blue eyes. If he gets overwhelmed with his cock in a pussy then he'll be able to reassure himself with the rest of Gibbs's body that he is safely having sex with his man and not putting himself through something he doesn't want just to keep his job.

 

And it's a little bit amazing, but Tony actually has a guy that he can say is _his._  

 

"Come on, Tony, move already, wanna feel your cock," says Gibbs, panting out his breaths, and intruding on his thoughts.

 

Tony grins, Gibbs's words sending a little surge of pleasure to his dick, making it swell and twitch. "I'm on it, boss," he says, and he grips Gibbs hips tighter and starts thrusting properly - if a bit absentmindedly - against Gibbs's ass.

 

He can't stop his racing thoughts. Would Gibbs think Tony was treating him like a woman if he  slid his cock into Gibbs's pussy? Would Gibbs want his ass fucked instead? Maybe he'd think that was more like 'taking it like a man' or something, but Tony doesn't know for sure, maybe that's wishful thinking because _he_ would prefer to fuck ass instead of cunt. It's not that Tony's repulsed by vagina, but he's not attracted to it; it's a lack of attraction, not an active dislike, that makes him gay.

 

But how does he find out what Gibbs wants? Does he just come out and say, _Which hole do you want my dick in?_ Tony doesn't have a fucking clue what the protocol is for fucking a trans guy. _Is there protocol for fucking a trans guy?_ Tony frets within the privacy of his mind, but his cock is fully hard again and steadily leaking pre-cum inside his jeans, and Gibbs is groaning and writhing beneath him.

 

But then Gibbs mutters, "Fuck me, Tony," and Tony _freaks_. He wants to - _by god, do I want to_ \- but he doesn't know _how_ and he's terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing and have Gibbs walk out of his life in disgust at his incompetence. It's an old, old worry of his.

 

Thinking fast, he turns Gibbs's head and - to tease the man, hopefully not too meanly - he braces himself and leans in close as if for a kiss, only to quickly pull back as Gibbs leans up. Tony grins brightly at him and says, "I need to eat lunch sometime this century, preferably in the next five minutes."

 

Gibbs huffs out a laugh, and brings one hand up in an uncomfortable move to hold Tony's head in place and force a kiss on him, slipping his tongue deep between Tony's lips as Tony tries to pull away - because _holy shit gross,_ that tongue's been up his ass. But then he lets Tony go, and as Tony scrambles off of him, Gibbs gives Tony a thoughtful and slightly concerned look, but doesn't ask questions.

 

The awkward conversation is averted - at least for a little while - and, as Gibbs remains calm, Tony's panic abates.

 

However, even with his uncertainty and worry, the day skyrockets up to being the best day of Tony's life. If Tony could have dreamed up an ideal day, he would have wanted it to be this one.

 

As the conversation starts flowing again, it's Tony who gets to educate Gibbs on the merits of mouthwash over brushing his teeth. It's just a little bit of a head-rush for Tony, since usually Gibbs has the lead on Tony in almost everything. But the explanation - that brushing your teeth immediately after giving oral sex can cause micro-tears in your gums and potentially let in bad bacteria and other nasties - leads Gibbs to flush bright red.

 

Gibbs admits, shyly and a bit ruefully, "My gay sex ed. pretty much only extends to knowing that two guys should use a condom and lube in order to fuck. I've never so much as kissed a guy before the first time we kissed. Let alone anything else." Gibbs bites his lip. "Should we have used a condom when I gave you head?"

 

Tony freezes, staring at Gibbs. _Shit, yes, we should have used a condom. Fuck, when was the last time I got tested?_ But, inexperience combined with - _what? late sixties, early seventies_ \- high school hetero sex education might actually explain why Gibbs had been so rough, not knowing any better. Then again, maybe Gibbs just likes pushing Tony to his limits. Actually, that's probably the most likely possibility.

 

But  mostly, Tony keeps staring at Gibbs, the man gone all awkward and shyly ducking his chin, because, _Jesus Christ,_ Gibbs had had his tongue up Tony's ass not twenty minutes ago, he'd been pushing his ass back against Tony's cock just a couple minutes ago, and now he's admitting that prior to Tony that he's _never done anything with any other man_. Knowing that he is Gibbs's first - and potentially, hopefully, _last_ \- guy, is enough of a head-rush to last Tony a lifetime.

 

Of course, having had Gibbs's tongue in his mouth after Gibbs has had his tongue up Tony's asshole, now they _both_ have to use the mouthwash, and Gibbs smirks at him as they stand side by side in Tony's bathroom, gargling and swishing the minty fluid around in their mouths. Tony glares back, but he has to fight to keep from smiling, because it's not like he actually _minds_ having Gibbs kiss him, regardless of the circumstances.

 

(But he kind of wants to wash his dick, just in case there's any germs on his cockhead from his ass, however he's not quite brave enough to do it with Gibbs right there, so Tony just resolves to have a very thorough shower later. It's one thing to be naked in a sexual situation with someone, another thing entirely to be casually naked with them.)

 

Gibbs teases Tony into making lunch for the both of them as a "make up for coming without me", so Tony scoffs at him and whips up some pastrami sandwiches and slices up some apples. Gibbs grins mischievously, boyishly - making Tony's heart stop for just a second, as if to say, _yeah, he's it, I'm choosing this one,_ before it continues beating normally - and Gibbs points out that Tony hasn't offered him a drink "like any good host would."

 

Not to be outdone, Tony hands over a can of _Sprite_   to Gibbs with a flourish and deep bow, and Tony knows he's riding an endorphin high, but it must be contagious or something because his court jester act has Gibbs literally _giggling_ with amusement, unable to keep the drink down and snorting it out his nose. Tony, holding his own sandwich, laughs so hard at him that the pastrami falls out of his slices of bread and after he's done laughing he's left clutching a crumpled mess.

 

Tony hasn't had time to research where he wants to take Gibbs out dancing, but Gibbs shrugs and invites Tony to spend the afternoon back at his place, a secretive smirk on his lips, and when Tony walks into Gibbs's living room he stops stock-still, staring. There's a brand new entertainment system in front of him, and it sure as hell wasn't there last night or this morning. Tony would have definitely noticed, no matter how tired or upset he was. But there's a respectable 21st Century TV, a couple different types of players and consoles, and speakers, _with_ _surround sound_ , all set up in what Tony would bet is Gibbs-made furniture. Stained pine, if Tony hasn't missed his guess. Actually speechless, an awed little part of Tony's mind points out that there's even a _PlayStation_ of some kind hooked up, a pair of controllers sitting in a little nook. 

 

Tony looks to Gibbs and the man shrugs again, gaze ducking sideways, looking a bit pink in the cheeks. "You and our friends should come around more often," says Gibbs, the only explanation he offers. It makes Tony wonder how they're going to manage that, if Tony's gonna have to pretend that he and Gibbs aren't in a relationship in front of their friends and co-workers.

 

But before he can organize his thoughts, Gibbs points a finger to the cupboards under the TV. "There's a few DVDs and CDs in there that the sales-woman recommended. Go see if there's anything you like."

 

In a disbelieving but happy daze, Tony obeys, and finds a stack of movies and a stack of music CDs. He digs through the movies until he finds a familiar comedy, _Little Miss Sunshine,_ wherein a family have truly horrendous luck but manage to pull together in trying to get their little girl to a beauty pageant, and he gets it ready to play while Gibbs messes about in his own kitchen. Tony worries a little that Gibbs might react badly to such a family-oriented movie. Especially one centred around a little girl, and that also addresses some difficult, familiar themes: attempted suicide and the death of a parent. But Gibbs shrugs when Tony warns him, and eventually Gibbs laughs just as hard as Tony at the jokes and ridiculous situations, and grins widely throughout the sappy ending.

 

They spend a couple hours lazing about, slouching on the couch, Gibbs's arm slung around Tony's shoulders, watching movies. They snack on beef jerky and corn chips, drink a couple beers each, and eventually end up discussing which is the best Jaeger in _Pacific Rim_ \- they both like the three-headed Chinese Jaeger, _Crimson Typhoon,_ it looks totally badass - and wondering which of their team-mates might be 'drift-compatible' - able to share a telepathic connection with someone in order to pilot a giant robot and fight monsters.

 

They both think Ellie would probably be drift-compatible with most people, she's simply so damn nice and caring to _everyone_ , but she can also hold her own ground - a good combination of qualities for any Jaeger pilot. They're torn between their different theories on Tim. Gibbs thinks Tim would have difficulty with both sharing and holding onto his own personality in the drift, but Tony thinks Tim could probably manage it with his girlfriend, Delilah, or maybe even with their old team-mate, Ziva. He doesn't say it, not wanting to be mean, but Tony can admit in the privacy of his own mind that he and Tim would probably clash terribly as drift co-pilots. They're good friends these days, but they never seem to fully recover from the scars they've dealt each other over the years.

 

He and Gibbs have scars from each other, but somehow, they always forgive each other. Or, maybe, the scars they give each other simply cease to matter whenever someone else threatens one of them, because the other is instantly there, a shield behind which to find safety, or a sword willingly aimed in the direction of their enemy. Then again, there's a deep silence in his mind that seems to wordlessly suggest that Tony isn't compatible with anyone, and it makes Tony a little too scared to broach the idea of him and Gibbs as Jaeger co-pilots, but Gibbs tugs him close, snares his gaze, and in a low voice says, "We'd be drift-compatible, don't you think?"

 

Tony grins and, ignoring the feeling that he _doesn't_ _belong_ anywhere, he says, "I reckon." But his smile fades as something else occurs to him. "But there's things I haven't told you. And things you haven't told me." There's one thing in particular in his past, that even sitting here now, safe in Gibbs's arms, Tony's mind shies away from thinking of it. He finds himself gripping Gibbs's wrist tightly, not entirely sure why, and Gibbs's eyes flick down to it briefly.

 

Concern and consideration both cross Gibbs's face, and he locks eyes with Tony as he says, "I don't think that it's about knowing absolutely everything about your partner. I think it might be more about how well you connect with them, with who they are as a person, and trusting that, whatever they might have said or not said, or done or not done, you know they have your back when it counts."

 

Tony has to look down, emotion sticking in his throat, but he forces himself to look back up and meet Gibbs's gaze as he answers, choking out, "Yeah, I agree. We'd be drift-compatible."

 

"So," says Gibbs, smiling slightly, "Jaeger co-pilots? Partners?" Gibbs holds out his hand, palm up, and it takes a long second before Tony realises that Gibbs is actually attempting define and declare their relationship. Using _movie references._ If Tony wasn't in love with him before, he sure as hell is now.

 

Tony nods firmly, grinning happily, and confirms, "Jaeger co-pilots. Partners." He uses more strength and speed than is necessary or wise in his haste to slap his own hand down to take Gibbs's, but Gibbs just moves with him, strong fingers curling around his hand. It's then that Tony realises that his uncertainty about their sex life, about Rule 12 and their co-workers' reactions, doesn't matter. They'll figure it out together sooner or later.

 

 

 

 

Around seventeen hundred hours, Gibbs grows restless, having had enough of sitting still, and turns to Tony, smiling slyly, and asks Tony if he's up for "some _hard_ exercise." Tony, a complete idiot, agrees, thinking that he's gonna get another orgasm. Which is how he ends up in a borrowed pair of shorts and an old faded _NIS_ t-shirt, running - _running_ \- with Gibbs, along a suburban footpath.

 

The good news is that Tony is wearing quality trainers already because he's never gotten out of the habit of buying sports shoes for casual wear, even though he hasn't played basketball - or gone running - in years. The bad news is, Tony is terribly out of shape. Maybe seven minutes in, only just past the first mile, and they're only jog-running, not full-on running, but Tony's ready to admit defeat.

 

"You're going to drag me kicking and screaming through hell and out the other side into healthy eating and exercising, aren't you?" huffs out Tony, slowing to a stop so that he can catch his breath.

 

Gibbs, looking good but weirdly naked in his own shorts and a loose singlet, keeps at his side and comes to a stop as well. Not out of breath at all, the bastard. "Exercising, sure. We gotta stay fit for work. But healthy eating, are you kidding me? Have you seen what I call dinner?" says Gibbs, incredulous.

 

And he's got a point, because if it weren't for the digestive repercussions of Lucas shooting him a year or more back (and Ducky and fucking _Cecil_ Taft bullying him into eating right), Gibbs would probably still be eating nothing but steak and potatoes for dinner, every night of the week, instead of the small cuts of beef or chicken and the large helping of mixed veggies that he sticks with now.

 

Tony mulls that over as he waits for his breathing to even out, wondering how the hell Gibbs has survived so long on his own, because Tony might not be willing to cook for his father - or even admit to Senior that he can cook - but he still knows how to make any number of Italian, Spanish, and Greek meals. It's the American dinners that he has trouble with; he's not sure that they actually exist. Most of his frat brothers, friends, and co-workers, all insist on eating out at "foreign food" restaurants, or KFC, whenever Tony shares a meal with them. Actually, now that he thinks about it, maybe steak and potatoes are the traditional American dinner?

 

Gibbs, not liking being ignored, grins wickedly and pipes up, "Besides, why would I have to drag you kicking and screaming into exercising?" He slinks into Tony's personal space, crowding in close until Tony can feel the heat of him, a mischievous glint in bright blue eyes. "When you'll chase after me of your own free will?"

 

Tony eyes him suspiciously, not sure if Gibbs is talking about Tony's earlier foolish agreement or if he's gonna try something funny now, but all Gibbs does is sweetly press a kiss to Tony's cheek. But then he spins around, off running before Tony can even blink. "You coming, Tony?" calls out Gibbs over from his shoulder, already several metres ahead.

 

Tony shakes his head in amusement, but he doesn't bother verbalizing his answer, his feet are already moving, his muscles falling into an old familiar pace, and while it's going to take some practice before Tony's any good at this again, it's better now with company than back when he did it alone. He speeds up, and it's a little easier to breathe than before, and when he catches up to Gibbs, he eases up, keeping pace with him.

 

"You know, Gibbs, next time we're doing this with music."

 

Gibbs smirks, as if amused and doubtful that Tony would want a repeat, but he says hopefully, "There's going to be a next time?"

 

"Presuming I survive this today, yeah."

 

Gibbs laughs, loud and free, and Tony would join in but he doesn't want to spoil his rhythm for it, so he just lets his happiness spread out in a grin across his face. He'll let Gibbs entice him into running as often as Gibbs wants, or at least as often as Tony's poor legs can handle it anyway, but Tony's going to sweet talk Gibbs into taking along his new cell-phone - the _iPhone_ that Vance has blackmailed Gibbs into using - and into borrowing a pair of Tony's ear-buds while they run. Tony's got a few ideas for a playlist that will have Gibbs interested in more than just running by the time he's  finished listening to it. And then they can both get their preferred method of exercise.

 

 

 

 

"Can I tell you a secret?" says Gibbs, tucking his nose into Tony's throat. They're curled up together on their sides on Gibbs's tattered old couch, the blankets a mess, and their clothes all over the place. Tony's pretty sure he's got Gibbs's socks stuck under his hip, however he's not really sure why.

 

"Yeah," says Tony. He's grinning stupidly, safe in the knowledge that Gibbs can't see his dorky fucked-out face from behind him. "You can tell me anything. I want to know all your secrets. I'll keep them safe, I promise."

 

"One secret at a time, Tony," says Gibbs, chuckling. He shifts just a little, just settling down and getting a little more comfy, but Tony quietly groans as Gibbs's hard dick shifts with him, hot and wet and big within Tony's ass, rubbing his prostate.

 

A little more lube dribbles out of Tony's hole and onto his balls, and it takes a hell of a lot of willpower to stay focused, but Tony snickers, not wanting to let on that he's having trouble relaxing into sleep after all the effort he went to in order to get Gibbs to agree to keep his cock inside him for the night. He can't wait to have Gibbs fuck him awake. "Yeah, you tell me everything all at once and my favourite functional mute might just implode!"

 

Gibbs snorts and slaps Tony's naked thigh.

 

Tony turns his head, blinking. "Was that actually meant to be a slap? Because it felt like a tickle."

 

"You're an annoying little shit, you know that, right?" says Gibbs exasperatedly.

 

Tony laughs lightly. "You love me anyway."

 

Gibbs sighs, mock-annoyed. "You're lucky you're pretty, DiNozzo."

 

" _Hey!_ "

 

"Go to sleep, Tony."

 

Tony rolls his eyes. The bossy little shit is lucky that _he's_ pretty.

 

But Tony takes several slow breaths and tries to relax, trying to fall asleep, only for a thought to hit him. "Wait, what's the secret?"

 

"Oh, you already know it," says Gibbs, amused. He hums and sucks at Tony's nape, just below his hairline.

 

"No I don't," says Tony, scrunching his nose up. He can't sleep on curiosity. "You didn't tell me."

 

"I love you anyway, Tony."

 

 _On second thought,_ Tony decides, _we're just gonna have to call in sick to work tomorrow morning._ "Gibbs?"

 

"Yeah, Tony?" murmurs Gibbs, his hand lazily caressing Tony's forearm.

 

"I can't wait 'til tomorrow for you to fuck me again," Tony informs Gibbs seriously without looking at him.

 

A beat of silence.

 

Then Gibbs bursts into laughter. "I fucking knew you wouldn't be able to sleep like this!" he splutters out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the same universe as my 'Wolverine' , but it's not a direct sequel. Mostly because it's written from Tony's POV, and is a different style of writing, and once I decided that I wanted to do something from Tony's POV because my last couple of fics were Gibbs's POV, I started getting ideas, and then I started wondering what if I changed this, and added that, and basically this entire story has avalanched out of my control. But anyway, this fic is named 'The Sunseeker' after the boat that Logan was going to buy for him and Charles in 'Logan' (2017). I wanted to continue with the superhero theme, particularly the parallel of Logan and Gibbs, especially with the themes in movie 'Logan', but I also wanted to acknowledge that this story isn't Gibbs's ending, but rather his and Tony's, so I wanted a name that reflected the sharing of that, and also reflected that it's a happy ending, hence naming it 'The Sunseeker' instead of 'Logan'. But I chose very deliberately to make it a happy ending, because trans characters so rarely get happy endings in the media.
> 
> My goal with this fic was to add to the representation of trans people, and I've tried to make it realistic without going too heavily into the genitals debate that always gets brought up when transgender people are in the media (because I'm tired of seeing bullshit treated like it's worthy of respect), though I'm not sure how well I've succeeded. It's entirely possible I'll come back to this AU in a few months in order to address that issue further. However, I've tried very hard to be respectful and understanding of transgender people in writing this, but there is a slight problem in that this fic is set within the context of Tony's perspective. So there are little bits of his ignorance and slow-growing understanding that might be somewhat offensive - and you don't get Gibbs's actual perspective on things, only what Tony thinks is his perspective. And I've very deliberately not gone into detail about Gibbs's genitals. But if there's anything you think I've handled poorly, or anything you would like me to add to the tags, please let me know in the comments (or by email, if you're feeling a little shy, edmondjames.dantes@gmail.com), I'm happy to talk it over and change anything that might cross a line. 
> 
> Writing this one felt like pulling teeth, because I've been so distracted with college. So the overall story is probably a lot more disjointed than I want, and I had to cut out earlier scenes with little Gabriel, his two moms, and mentions of Jason Bull (because I was gonna do a slight crossover where Jason (from 'Bull', 2016) kicks Senior's ass). But I just don't have time to flesh out the second half of the story, I've got exams coming up so I'm about to have even less time to work on side projects like this one. I just wanted to get something finished and posted, because it's going to be about a month before I can write any more fic at all, so I've chopped this story down to size and rushed through changing the middle into an early ending. I'm really hoping it still stands up to scrutiny, but if it doesn't, you know why, and I'm just gonna cut my losses.
> 
> Lastly, thank you so much for reading! Please let me know if you liked it, I'd love to have everyone's thoughts and opinions on this one. It's an interesting yet delicate topic, and I'm not sure how well I've managed it. Also, if there's anything you think I could improve on - be it related to character or theme or whatever - please let me know, I'm always interested in becoming a better writer (though maybe lay off the plot for this one, lmao, this fic doesn't really have one anymore). But, basically, feedback rocks - and I will be incredibly grateful to you for even a few words.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Edmond.


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